Summer's Reunion Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  KEY VERSE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  SNEAK PEEK AT Her Cowboy Forever

  ABOUT DORA HIERS

  OTHER BOOKS BY DORA HIERS

  SUMMER’S REUNION

  Copyright © 2020 by Dora Hiers

  Published by Grace Legacy Publishing

  Cover Art by German Creative

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means without written permission from Dora Hiers or Grace Legacy Publishing, except for including brief quotations in reviews along with proper acknowledgement. Unauthorized duplication and/or distribution is illegal. eBook editions may not be copied, resold or given away. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contact information: [email protected]

  Published by Grace Legacy Publishing

  First Edition, 2020

  Published in the United States of America

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Dedication

  For all those battling with bitterness.

  May you find True and Lasting Peace.

  See, I am doing a new thing!

  Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

  I am making a way in the wilderness

  and streams in the wasteland.

  Isaiah 43:19

  1

  Mannix Tomlinson stood on the beach. Gauzy fabric twisted around the rafters of the gazebo overhead, held in place with flowers and ties. Even so, the material billowed with every whisper of an early summer breeze to wrap around his cream-colored pant legs.

  He stifled a groan. When was the last time he’d worn beige dress pants? Huh. Never?

  Disentangling himself, he shifted farther away from the pillar, stepping in place until his brown dress shoes found firm footing in the loose sand. Fighting the urge to rip the unfamiliar tie from around his neck, he settled for loosening the knot. Just enough to stop the choking feeling. Still, sweat trickled down the middle of his back.

  Next to him, Gramps waited patiently for his beautiful bride to begin the march down the short aisle. Just two months past his seventy-ninth birthday, the old fool was getting married again.

  Mannix shook his head, barely restraining an eye roll.

  His only living grandparent elbowed him in the gut, grinning like a lovestruck teen. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

  “I’m happy for you, Gramps.” And he was.

  Joseph Tomlinson Senior deserved to find happiness and someone to share his life. He hadn’t asked to be saddled with three strapping grandsons after the tragic accident that stole his son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter, but he’d stepped up to the plate. Now that Mannix and his brothers all had lives of their own, maybe Gramps could finally concentrate on his.

  Gramps would debate that. Especially since all three of his grandsons were single.

  His gaze skidded to the front row of the small gathering. Trip, his brawny sixteen-year-old nephew, sat scrunched between Mannix’s younger brothers. Trace, the middle one and Trip’s father, and Gentry, the youngest at thirty-two, but only three years separated all three. Somehow, Gramps had managed to track down their youngest sibling in Southeast Asia—who knew where—and convinced the prodigal to come back home for the wedding.

  Small and tight, these guys were all he had now. Well, plus Ellie, Gramps’s soon-to-be wife.

  Soft music played as a young girl tossed rose petals on the white runner. The breeze tickled his cheeks, and he allowed his eyelids to shutter. If only Gramps had waited until after the wedding to issue reassignments at the company, he wouldn’t have missed last night’s rehearsal. Wouldn’t be dead on his feet now.

  Another solid jab to the gut, and his eyelids jerked up. “Sorry. But it’s all your fault, you know.”

  “My fault you can’t stay awake for the biggest day of my life?” Gramps scowled at him.

  “I was up all night getting up to speed on the vacation rental side for a staff meeting tomorrow.” He filled his lungs with mountain air, fresh and crisp with a healthy hint of lake water. “There. All better. Sorry, Gramps.”

  Finished with her job, the flower girl ran to her mother. The woman, a friend of Ellie’s, enveloped the girl in a hug before pulling the child onto her lap.

  Sweet kid. He hoped to have a couple someday. Funny how the older he got the more his attitude toward children changed. His attitude in general. Such a shame that he’d wasted all those years letting bitterness rot his soul. If he hadn’t been so insistent on not starting a family, maybe then Rowan—

  The music shifted, dragging his attention toward the beautiful woman standing at the end of the aisle.

  Wait. That wasn’t Ellie.

  He blinked, blaming his lack of sleep for the hallucination. Jaw hinged, he closed his eyes and gave his head a little shake then slowly lifted his eyelids.

  She stood motionless, a sunbeam spotlighting the waves of golden hair and shimmering from her caramel eyes.

  Rowan?

  He scrubbed a hand over his whiskered cheeks, wishing now he’d taken the time to shave the scruff this morning. But Rowan had always liked his beard.

  “Surprised?” Gramps chuckled.

  The thick lump finally made its way down his throat, but his legs were on the verge of buckling. “You knew?”

  “You would’ve, too, if you’d come to the rehearsal last night.”

  Mannix ignored his grandfather’s smug tone and pointed look, too focused on the woman now walking slowly down the aisle straight toward him. His breath banked in his lungs. She was just as breathtakingly beautiful as their wedding day fifteen years ago.

  How could he have ever signed the divorce papers and let her walk away?

  Because he’d been drowning in self-pity and bitterness back then, and he couldn’t stand the thought of dragging her down with him.

  The light gray gown swirled around her long shapely legs, the silver pattern sparkling with every dancer-like step. Her gaze stayed locked with his until she finally made it to her assigned spot under the canopy. When she turned to face him, a single tear trickled down her smooth cheek.

  What he wouldn’t do to brush it away, to hold her in his arms once more. But…

  He’d lost that right. Should never have had it in the first place, if he was honest.

  Suddenly, Ellie appeared next to Gramps, but Mannix had missed every second of the bridal march. Pastor Scott’s opening remarks invoked a round of laughter from the guests, but Mannix hadn’t heard any of the words.

  What was Rowan doing back in Moondust Cove? The last time he’d seen her was at her mother’s funeral in Charlotte a few months back, although he hadn’t be
en able to scrounge up the courage to speak with her. Because of the pandemic, only a handful of mourners gathered at the graveside service, keeping their distance, and he’d found a quiet spot tucked behind some trees and out of range to pay his respects.

  Was she back in town to stay or just for her aunt’s wedding? Surely not to stay. Not when the real estate market in Charlotte offered so much more inventory than their tiny hamlet wedged against the lake and perched high on the mountain.

  Either way, he couldn’t squash the hope that kindled in his gut. Lord, help me to show her that I’ve changed, that I’m not the same man she grew to despise during our too-short marriage.

  ****

  Rowan Albright couldn’t peel her eyes away from her ex-husband. So, Aunt Ellie was right, and the rumors were true.

  She missed the words for the entire ceremony. So focused on Mannix, she startled at the loud hoots and hollers coming from the front row while her aunt and Gramps shared a sweet kiss, their first as husband and wife.

  Her gaze shot to the row of men at the front. Mannix’s two brothers and was that really his nephew? All grown up now?

  Untamed, those Tomlinson brothers, all bearing scars after the tragic death of their parents and sister. Including her husband.

  Ex-husband. You need to keep that sad fact front and center.

  Gramps offered his hand to Ellie, and the duo walked down the aisle, shaking hands and dishing out hugs along the way.

  “Rowan.”

  At the familiar baritone voice, goosebumps spiked along her arms. She dragged in a slow deep breath and swiveled to face the man who’d haunted her dreams for the past eight painfully long years. “Mannix.”

  He held out his arm, but she could only stare at it, paralyzed, unable to join hands and link their fingers. Just one touch might unravel everything she’d worked so hard to build. An immunity, fragile as it was, toward the man who still reigned over her heart.

  With a knowing nod, he dropped his arm and scanned the thinning crowd as the guests transitioned to the beautifully decorated tables dotting the shoreline. His gaze settled back on her, sliding down her length, appreciation shimmering from his eyes. “You look absolutely stunning.”

  “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

  Too good. Her fingers itched to run through his thick dark hair, a shade somewhere between brown and black. To rub out the ever-present crease between his eyebrows just as she used to do when he suffered from one of those awful migraines. To caress his jaw and feel the scratchy whiskers tickle her skin. And those shoulders! So strong looking now, broader than she remembered. As if capable of carrying the emotional baggage of his whole family.

  She gulped. Why had she ever agreed to Gramps’s crazy plan and her aunt’s plea to come back home? She couldn’t do this!

  “How long are you in town?”

  Didn’t he know? “I…I’m not sure.” If she chickened out, she’d stay long enough to make sure Aunt Ellie was settled and happy before…what? Heading back to Charlotte? What was left for her there? Only a handful of friends, mostly colleagues. She’d been too wrapped up in building her real estate business to make true and lasting friends. And when her mother got sick, even those people had dropped out of her life.

  His lips twisted, and he dropped his head, shielding his expression and masking any emotion from his voice. “Oh. I thought maybe—”

  “Hey, Rowan!”

  “Great to see you, Sis.”

  Suddenly, she found herself sandwiched between Mannix’s two brothers. She latched an arm around each of the brothers, giving them a squeeze before stepping back and inserting some personal space, a hangover from the pandemic. “It’s wonderful to see you too.”

  “Hey, Aunt Rowan. About time you came back home.”

  She peered up at her nephew for the very first time. “Look at you, Trip. All grown up now. You’re a mini-version of your dad and uncles, minus the beards.”

  Now that she was seeing all three brothers lined up, side by side for the first time in nearly a decade, she realized how similar they looked. Same build and height, they reached well over six feet with massive shoulders, likely from working their way up in the construction side of their business. Brown hair and eyes. All with beards. Gentry’s hair and facial scruff, though, appeared more black than brown, and the youngest brother was leaner, still carrying a hint of the tragedy in his eyes. With only three years separating the youngest from the oldest, they could pass for triplets.

  Trip rubbed his clean jaw. “Except I’m much better looking.”

  They all laughed.

  “Excuse me, please. I’ll see you around, Rowan.” Gentry took off at a fast clip, apparently on a mission.

  “Looks like he spotted Everlee.” Trace peered over the crowd, tracking his brother’s progress. “It appears to be an afternoon of reunions.”

  Her gaze darted to Mannix before she lowered her head, pretending to be totally engrossed in tapping her strappy sandal in the sand.

  “Looks like we’re being summoned for pictures. Come on, Trip.” Trace took a step away then twisted and looked back at them over his shoulder. “Rowan, if we don’t get another chance to chat, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Tomorrow. Yes. Her first day at the new job.

  She gulped then managed a nod, not trusting her voice. Not sure if she could scrounge up the courage to go through with it yet powerless to resist the tremendous pull of seeing her ex-husband every day again.

  Trace and Trip walked away, and she stared at their backs, ignoring the weight of Mannix’s stare. Until…she couldn’t.

  “Tomorrow?” His head tilted in that adorable way of his when he was trying to understand something.

  “Yeah.” Her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips. “Gramps offered me a job.”

  “Gramps offered you a job,” he parroted. “And what would that be?”

  “Head Broker for Tomlinson Investment Properties.”

  “Head broker—” His jaw hinged, leaving his mouth wide open. Twin vertical lines pushed his eyebrows down. “But you said you didn’t know how long you were in town.”

  She took a deep breath. “True.”

  He waited her out. His favorite tactic, and it never failed to make her talk.

  The words rushed out, honest and raw. She dipped her head, hiding behind a curtain of hair. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

  He nudged her chin up and brushed her hair back, forcing her to look at him. “It?”

  “You.” Her shoulders deflated. She kept her gaze locked with his even though her lips quivered with the truth. “Being with you every day.”

  Like the perfect storm, a mess of emotions closing in from all directions. Losing her mom. The stress of packing up her apartment on such short notice. Starting a new job. Seeing Mannix again. Knowing that every day, for better or worse, she’d be forced to sit with him in meetings and pass him in the hall at the office, not knowing if her heart could take it. It all threatened to undo her.

  His arm dropped away. Scowling, his spine stiffened, making him even taller, more formidable. A lump worked up and down his throat. “I’m not that bad, Rowan.”

  Oh. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean then?”

  How much truth would he wring out of her today? “I…I’m not sure if my—”

  “Rowan! Mannix! We need you for pictures.” Aunt Ellie, the smiling bride, waved them over.

  Mannix’s fingers circled both her arms as he leaned in close, teasing her with a whiff of his favorite bath soap, clean and fresh with a hint of the sea. “Don’t think for one second that this conversation is over.”

  When he released her and walked away, her legs went limp. She grabbed the canopy post and held on, a sigh of relief escaping her lungs.

  No. I’m quite sure, Lord. My heart can’t handle being around my ex-husband every day. You’re going to have to help me here.

  2

  Mannix nudged a hip
against the wall of windows in his office, cradling a mug of lukewarm coffee as he watched the sun rise over the mountains in the distance.

  Tomlinson Investment Properties owned the building they were using for their office, but they’d outgrown the facility. How long before the new building was ready for occupancy?

  He’d put a burr under Trace’s skin. Because the surprise yesterday had certainly jolted him. And there was no way that he could avoid Rowan in their tiny cramped quarters.

  “Morning, Mannix.”

  He turned to look over his shoulder. Trace stood in the doorway, arms crossed, shoulder against the frame.

  “Morning.”

  “You sound awfully grumpy and you left out the ‘good.’ What’s wrong?” Trace walked into the office and sank into a chair, frowning. “Hey. Did you sleep here last night?”

  Mannix dropped his gaze to the hideous cream-colored trousers he’d worn for the wedding yesterday. “No. I didn’t sleep here last night.”

  “Semantics.” Trace slashed the air with his hand. “You were up all night then?”

  He let out a long huff. “Working.” Well, maybe not so much working. More thinking. About how he’d messed things up royally with Rowan. And praying. Begging God to give him a second chance with her.

  He took a sip of coffee and recoiled at the tepid temperature. It’s not as if he needed more caffeine anyway. He dropped into his office chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

  “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”

  “Can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Staff meeting this morning.”

  “Go home after that.”

  “Maybe.” Not. Not with Rowan here.

  “Rowan’s got you in a snit.”

  He opened his eyes and glared at his brother. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Trace lifted his palms. “I thought Gramps did.”

  Exhaling a heavy sigh, Mannix leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk, scrubbing his face. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”